


you take me somewhere i have never been

by repave



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Diners, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, a little bit of smut, just fluff, listen i don't know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1921929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/repave/pseuds/repave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry grins wide like the Cheshire Cat, and it would be frightening if Harry weren’t so cute.</p><p>“I like sleeping in your bed.”</p><p>“I like you.”</p><p>A uni AU in which Louis is a carhop at an American-style drive-in and Harry has no coordination, but they both fall hard and fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you take me somewhere i have never been

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simplemelodies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplemelodies/gifts).



> well, hello there. this is nothing but fluff, but we're all grown-ups or pretending to be, right? so we can just deal.
> 
> title is from kate nash's "my best friend is you."
> 
> in addition to the title, other bits of this work were inspired by kate nash's songs "birds" and "i hate seagulls" and i'm well aware that all of my friends hate me for bringing that latter song into their lives.
> 
> some thanks to raina and leah for helping me with the diner idea and to angel, britta, and kirra for answering my questions and being generally some of my favorite people.
> 
> i hope this tickled your fancy, simplemelodies xoxo
> 
> loundonson.tumblr.com

“Goddamn it, Louis. I’ve told you at least five times that you _cannot_ draw or write on your skates.”

“Caroline, plain white looks weird. And boring.”

“It’s the uniform, deal with it. Now get back out there. You’ve got two new cars in your section. The Volvo and the Vauxhall. If you promise not to write on your skates again, I’ll consider not making you work on Boxing Day.”

Louis grins charmingly. “Oh, Miss Watson, you drive a hard bargain.”

“Was that a car pun?” Caroline calls after Louis, who is already skating deftly back out to the carpark. 

“Hi Tommo!” Jesy says greeting Louis as she fills ketchup bottles at a table inside.

Louis breaks to a quick stop to chat. “Hey babe! You all right?”

“Fine, thanks. Your hair is looking nice today, that’s good.” Jesy smirks and darts her eyes out the window. 

"What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis’ eyebrows furrow and his blue eyes narrow. He reflexively adjusts his feathery fringe.

“Well, you were in back talking to Caroline for so long, I thought Jade was gonna have to take your section.” She smirks again and looks back down to the ketchup bottles.

“I honestly haven’t a clue what you’re on about, Jesy.” 

“Go do your job and maybe you’ll find out.”

Louis raises his eyebrows and moves to skate, snagging an extra pen from the cashier counter on his way out.

He loves his job a lot, Louis does. He’s been a carhop at Mel’s American Drive-In for two years since he started uni in Manchester. Mel’s is a bit of a novelty in the UK. It’s close enough to campus that it’s a student hangout for many and right now it’s the dinner rush and Louis could not be more in his element.

He quickly takes the order from the Vauxhall (two double cheeseburgers, a large order of chips, a chocolate milkshake, and a diet coke), metaphorically scratching his head over Jesy’s comments, and moves on to the silver Volvo waiting patiently.

“Helloooo, I’m Louis, welcome to Mel’s, what can I get for you today?” Louis recites instinctually—which is good because as soon as he lays eyes on the driver he nearly loses his balance, only saving himself at the last second.

The driver has long, dark curls and eyes that are way too green and sparkling for the fluorescent lighting of the drive-in carpark. His skin is pale and milky, offset by his full, berry red _lips_ , and  he’s dressed in tight-as-anything black jeans and an oversized lavender jumper. Louis can’t entirely tell since he’s sitting down, but his body looks long and lithe yet solid and Louis’ mouth is watering for a reason that has nothing to do with burgers and onion rings.

“Hiii, I’m Harry.” Louis’ eyes widen at his slow, deep voice dripping in honey, which Harry notices and immediately tries to cover for, “Oh my god, that’s weird, innit. Customers don’t usually introduce themselves—”

“No. no, it’s fine. It’s good. It makes a lot of sense actually. It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

Harry smiles wide and dimpled and _fuck_. Dimples. “I guess I should order then.”

Louis blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. What can I get for you?”

“Um, well. I’ve never been here before. What’s your favourite?”

“Ah, hmm. I mean, it’s pretty standard like American burgers and chips, but Niall does a special that’s ace. It’s a cheeseburger with bacon and avocado and, yeah, definitely my favourite. I didn’t even used to like avocado, but this burger, mate.” Louis exhales dramatically and Harry laughs.

“Sounds brill, I’ll have that, an order of chips and a lemonade, thanks so much.”

Louis writes down his order and hands him his slip. “That’ll be £7.45. I promise you’ll love it.”

Harry smiles wide again and hands him a tenner, and Louis skates off to get his change and put in his order, only sneaking one glance back at the pretty boy. 

Jesy is giggling inside now with Jade, who’s joined her to fill salt and pepper shakers instead.

“How’d it go, babe?” Jesy says, eliciting another giggle from Jade.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Jesy. Hey, Leigh, can you get my change for these orders?”

Leigh-Anne is working the cashier and she quickly summons his change, saying quietly to Louis, “Ignore them, Lou. They’re really just excited for you.”

“I don’t know why you are all making such a fuss, honestly.”

“Well, the kid in the Volvo is exactly your type. And, he checked out your bum when you skated away.”

Louis’ eyes flash. “I don’t have a type.”

“Okay, true. But if you did.”

“Whatever, Leigh, how can you all even see him from in here? Jesus. Listen, I just need to put these orders in. We’re about to get the second dinner rush.”

Leigh-Anne smiles knowingly and shoos Louis off back to work.

Louis glides over to the kitchen and tacks up his orders for the cooks to read off. “Nialler, we still up for a pint tomorrow night? Zayn and Perrie have a date or summat, I dunno.”

“Yeah, mate! Derby’s not playing, so I’m down.” Niall replies cheerily. 

“Great, hey, your special is on one of those. Make sure it’s even better than usual?”

“What, some fit bloke order it?”

“I plead the 5th,” Louis calls back already turning to skate away. “Thanks, mate!”

“You’re English! That doesn’t exist!”

“Americans did get a few things right, Niall!”

By the time Louis’ orders are ready, he’s managed to take two more and mentally compose half a sonnet about the cruel, sinful shape of Harry’s lips. He delivers the Vauxhall’s order first, hoping to be able to chat with the curly headed devil for a few more minutes undisturbed by hungry, expectant customers. 

Louis has had the act of transferring overloaded trays full of piping hot grease and super-sized soft drinks while on a pair of roller skates down to an art for close to two years. He’s dropped one tray in all his time at Mel’s, and to be fair, Perrie had tripped him to get back at him for drawing dicks on her skates. 

There’s nothing, not even a gorgeous, dimpled, twinkly eyed boy, that could actually make him lose his cool on four wheels. Louis is about two feet from Harry’s Volvo when his door opens abruptly and a pair of gangly legs bust out of the car. 

“Oh my god!”

“Shit.”

“Oh my god, fuck, oh my god, I am so sorry. I’m sorry. Are you all right? Oh my god, I’ve gone and spilled everything all over you. I was going to try to help you—”

“Harry.”

“I—”

“Harry, it’s okay.” Louis’ uniform is covered in Harry’s meal, but while Harry is extremely distressed by the entire situation, nibbling his bottom lip and looking unsure of what to do with his hands, Louis is calm and grinning slightly. Harry’s impossibly endearing.

“I really am so sorry. Can I help clean you up?”

“Mate, don’t worry about it. It was an accident. I’ve got a spare uniform in my locker, so I’ll just go in and change. I can put your order in again, if you don’t mind waiting?”

Harry seems marginally relieved that Louis isn’t fussed, but he’s still blushing fiercely. Scratching the back of his neck, Harry mumbles softly, “Ah. Um, I don’t really feel hungry anymore, to be honest.”

“It’s like 8 o’clock though, I mean you have to eat. Midterm revising and all. I assume you’re at uni.”

“Reading sociology and philosophy. And I guess. I do have food in my flat. I just thought it would be fun to try this place out. But now…”

“Do you make a habit of spilling charbroiled meat all over your servers?” Louis is still, in fact, dripping in ketchup and sugary lemonade, but the urgency of that matter now seems lost upon both boys.

“Only the fit ones.” Harry immediately claps a hand over his mouth, embarrassed. Louis thinks subtlety isn’t the curly kid’s forte. But then, neither is it his. 

Failing to conceal his coy smirk as he glances off to the side, Louis brings his gaze back to Harry, looking up through his long eyelashes. “Well, Curly, I don’t want to keep you from whatever you need to be doing and I need to get back to work, but it’s been a pleasure.”

“God, I really am so sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to—” 

“Harold. Really. It’s okay. You’re really cute when you’re flustered,” Louis says, cutting Harry off, who blushes beet red at Louis’ compliment.

“Well, I’d better go then.”

“Night, Harry.”

Harry smiles wide and waves gently as he reverses his car, the pinkie his hand slightly apart from the rest of his fingers.

Louis watches him drive away before glancing down at his ruined uniform. “Buggering fuck.” 

~

Louis managed to avoid his gossipy coworkers for the rest of the night’s shift by relying on his skating skills to swiftly evade their questions, but when he arrives to work the next day (after a night of restless sleep and a morning of dull lectures spent fighting flashing images of an angelic—no, _demonic_ —creature with bouncy curls and craters for dimples) he is instantly seized by a chatty Niall who claps him on the back and launches into conversation.

“Hey, Lou. How was your day? Oh wait, didn’t get to ask you how the special went over last night, you were in such a hurry.”

“Oh, uhh. About that. The customer sort of. Spilled it all over me.”

“What the fuck? Did you come on too strong, mate?”

Indignation flares across Louis’ face. “What. No. It was an accident. He was trying to get out and help me.”

“He got out of his car?”

“I’ve just said that, Niall, haven’t I? Never been here before, apparently. Anyway, he opened his door and knocked the whole tray onto me.”

As though he could suddenly and perfectly visualize the scene in his head, Niall explodes into laughter. After at least fifteen seconds of knee-slapping mirth—Louis stood unimpressed with his arms crossed—Niall catches his breath. “GOD. Only you, Lou. Only you.”

Louis’ stony expression cracks at the fondness in Niall’s voice. “I was absolutely disgusting. Avocado and ketchup and lemonade. Just like covered. Quite the first impression, I guess.”

“Wait, was it the fit guy Jesy was talking about?”

“Never listen to Jesy, Niall. It’s bad for your health.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, the customer was fit. There.”

“Okay, but how is that you making a bad impression? He was the clumsy one?”

“I don’t know, mate. I do know I need to get out there, though, or Caroline’s gonna have me head.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll talk at the pub later. See ya, mate.”

Louis’ busies himself tying up his skates when his phone buzzes in the front pocket of his apron. 

**_Zayn: mate perrie cancelled sumthin about revising idk. was gona go home but u still going out with niall tonite?_ **

Louis taps out his reply quickly.

**_Louis: yeah mate just student union I think_ **

**_Zayn: k i’ll just hop over after i finish at the shop. 10?_ **

**_Louis: yeah perfect see you_ **

Louis’ shift passes quickly, and he shuts down Jade so instantly when she asks about the previous night’s fiasco that she and the rest of the girls don’t push it any further.

At half past nine, Mel’s closes up and Louis changes in the backroom into black skinnies, a hoodie, and a beanie. The ensemble might be a bit bare for mid December in Manchester, but Louis knows that he’ll warm up quickly on the walk back from the pub. God bless his half-a-mile-from-campus flat.

“Nialler! Let’s go, I want to get pissed.”

“Same, mate. But I always want to get pissed, you not so much. What’s your deal?”

“Nothing, man, this mid-century theatre class is just throwing me for a fucking loop. I have to write a fifteen-page paper by Monday about this play where these guys stone a baby. I don’t know, I don’t get it.”

“Yeah right, you don’t give a shit about that class. You just need to get pull.”

“I’m not the pulling type, Niall.”

“Everyone is the pulling type, you just gotta get in the mood. You’re as charming as they come.”

Louis snorts, _not exactly_. “Well, regardless, I’m not pulling at the fucking student union. How’s it go? You don’t shit where you eat?”

Niall laughs. “You’re an arse. Whatever, Lou, you’re not gonna meet anyone at Mel’s and you’re not gonna meet anyone at Spike’s. At least at the union, there’s a chance you’ll actually see the dudes again.”

“That’s what I’m trying to avoid.”

“So, you don’t want one-night stands, and you don’t want to settle down?”

“Mate, no. I’m just. Taking it easy. Keeping my options open.”

Niall’s sigh is heavy and put-upon. He and Zayn have had multiple conversations about the fact that Louis hasn’t had a proper relationship since college—which even then, that relationship was meaningful only in that it was enough for Louis to figure out girls didn’t do it for him. Zayn usually neglects to mention that Niall has been a serial bachelor for his entire time in Manchester. They sort of get that Louis isn’t the type to settle, but then, Louis is also only twenty-one. Fate has plenty of time to work her magic.

As they make their way from Mel’s to the pub, a light but cold rain starts to fall, making the fairy lights decorating the shops of the city centre reflect on the glistening pavement. Zayn is having a smoke outside the establishment under cover of an awning—his quiff is too painstakingly styled to risk a hood, even in the icy rain. He stubs out his cigarette when Louis and Niall reach him, and they all share “Hey mate, you all right”’s  and hugs before heading into the pub. 

“How was work?” Louis asks, arm slung around Zayn’s shoulders.

“Good, bro. Did a cool piece today, took me like an hour. It was, like, a lion-tiger hybrid on the back of this bloke’s shoulder.”

“That’s sick, man.”

“They exist in the wild, did ya know? Ligers.”

“No, mate. Pretty sure that’s just a Napoleon Dynamite thing.”

“Lou, I’m sure ligers are real.”

“Well, if you say so, bro. I’ll get the first round if you grab a table.”

“Yeah, yeah, on it. Niall fucking vanished already, I think he hit the toilets or something.”

“He’s gotta make room for those six pints he’s gonna down.”

Louis makes his way to the bar and orders a couple of pints of lager for Zayn and Niall and a whiskey sour for himself. The pub isn’t quite packed yet, but it is a Friday night, exams be damned. A very pretty and tipsy ginger bird tries to chat him up while he’s waiting for the drinks. Louis thinks he recognizes her from his Shakespearean comedy class from his second year, but he does his best to let her down as delicately as possible. 

Minor obstacle aside, Louis feels decently relaxed as he expertly carries the three glasses over to the lads. Niall is laughing hysterically at some story at Zayn’s when Louis reaches them, so he sits silently and tries to pick up on the story.

“Wait, wait! He said he wanted a Where’s Waldo peeking out from his actual arse???”

“Yes, mate! God, I’m so, like, glad I was leaving and Danny has to do it but, like, I honestly think that’s, like, the weirdest request we’ve ever had.”

Louis pipes in with, “To each his own I guess.”

Niall’s head whips around at Louis’ voice. “Oh yeah, pints!”

“Took ya long enough, bro,” Zayn says to Louis, who’s sipping his cocktail.

“Ah, yeah, sorry about that. Had to fend off an admirer.”

“Why’d you do that? You haven’t gotten laid in, like, three months.”

“Female.”

“Oh.” Zayn laughs and starts to drink his pint. 

“Yeah, she was cute though. Niall, you’d like her, probably. Ginger. Petite. Maisie, I think, was her name.”

“Maybe I’ll buy her a drink.”

“I think she’s a bit pissed already, mate. Another night.”

“Oh yeah? Yeah, yeah, true. You’re right.”

Zayn redirects the conversation to random flat matters, like what they need from the shop and the fact that Louis keeps leaving his used Yorkshire tea bags in mugs all over their flat.

“Mate, listen, I don’t say anything when Perrie stays over and doesn't wash the blender after she makes those juice things.”

“I know, bro, and I’m gonna talk to her about it. But I’m not your mum and I’m not your boyfriend, so I’m not, like, picking up after you.”

Louis nods, conceding his defeat, but Niall suddenly interjects, “Oh wait, speaking of boyfriends, Zayn, did Lou tell you about his fit customer mishap last night?”

“Niall.”

“Nah, we haven’t seen each other until tonight. What mishap?”

Louis groans long-sufferingly. “Niall, you didn’t even see him, I don’t get why you’re so invested.”

“I trust Jesy and Jade’s—”

“I don’t want to talk about it. It was embarrassing and I won’t see him again, it’s whatever.”

Zayn grins knowingly. “Fuck, you like him.”

“We talked for two minutes.”

Niall stands abruptly. “I’m gonna get another round. Same?”

Both Zayn and Louis nod. “That doesn’t matter. A connection is a connection.”

“Oh my god, you’re sounding like Lottie, Zayn.”

“Point being?”

“Point being unless he decides he didn’t make a complete arse of himself by spilling his entire dinner all over me, he’s probably not going to come back.”

“Oh my god, that’s what happened? How did he—wait, do you think he made an arse of himself?”

“What, no. But, he probably thinks that, so.”

“But, he goes to uni, right? Like you could see him around.”

“There are, like, 40,000 students here, Zayn.”

“Not impossible.”

Niall is back in record time with their drinks, and Louis downs his second a lot faster than his first. He’s feeling pleasantly loose, with the conversation shifted to football and pop culture. Zayn recognizing Louis’ openness and the fact that Niall’s abandoned them to challenge an American student to a drink-off takes the opportunity to poke again. “Tell me more about this lad.”

“Mate, I told you. We talked for a few minutes, tops.”

“But, what’s his name?”

“Harry. Studying philosophy and sociology.”

“Philosophy Harry.”

“I know. God, his curls and dimples and EYES. Zayn. His eyes. I’m so sad.” Louis is slightly flushed and pouting the tiniest bit.

“Wait, wait. Curly hair you said?”

“Yeah.”

“Green eyes?”

“Sparkly green eyes.”

“And philosophy?”

“Yes, Zayn, god. Have you quite finished?”

“Bro, I totally know him! He’s my mate!”

“What?”

“Harry Styles, sociology and philosophy. He’s in my philosophy of art class. We hang out sometimes, he’s wicked.”

“Harry Styles. You’re fucking with me.”

“When have I ever lied to you, Louis?

“That time you said, uh. Uhm.”

“Exactly. Mate, oh my god, he’s totally your type.”

“How many times do I have to tell you people I don’t have a type?”

“Well, not, like, physically. But he’s the sweetest lad and really clever and funny and he loves music and, like, dumb romantic comedies and stupid penis jokes and shit.”

Louis actually whines like a dog. “He’s perfect.”

“Perfect for you at least.”

“Why is my luck so shit?”

“What are you on about? I can get you guys together.”

“Zayn, I don’t want you to set me up.”

“No, no, not like that! Just, like, I’ll invite him to the flat for FIFA or whatever.”

“You hate FIFA.”

“I don’t. I just prefer other games, it’s not a crime.”

“Should be. But if you invite him to the flat, isn’t he going to think it’s like a date or something? You look like you walked off a fucking Gucci advert, Zayn.”

“Louis, don’t be thick. No. He’s not interested in me, like, at all, don’t worry. Plus he knows I have a girlfriend. It’ll just be bros hanging out. Except for the fact that you want do do very non-bro-y things to him.”

“Fuck off.”

Zayn laughs. “I’ll pencil us in.”

Niall eventually loses his contest. Apparently being Irish and fearless doesn’t equal brute size, so Louis and Zayn drag him back to their flat (they both know his roommate Liam, despite being a party animal himself, is tired of Niall being sick in their dorm) fifty pounds poorer and with a wounded ego. 

“You guys should have let me fight him. I could have taken him.”

Zayn pats Niall on the back comfortingly and Louis reassures him, “I know, mate. You’re a bad man. Just didn’t want you to get thrown out. Pub’s on campus, remember?”

Niall garbles something nonsensical and they all shuffle into a taxi. They’d usually just walk, but with Niall’s state and the weather, that’s not an option. 

~

Louis spends the next morning and afternoon intermittently working on his theatre paper and looking after Niall, whose last two rounds of tequila shots have garnered him the worst hangover he’s had all term. 

At a quarter past 4, Louis showers and gets dressed for work, which he usually loves but is dreading with all the stress of his coursework. For the sake of everyone who has to deal with him, however, he puts on a pleasant game face and makes it through the first two hours of his shift with minimal worrying and only the occasional thought of curls and green eyes. 

“Louis, Louis, Louis, Lou-weeeeeeee!”

“Jesus, Perrie, what is it?” Louis brakes to a stop in front of the kitchen, needing to put three orders in.

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“No, really guess!”

“Umm, Zayn’s actually not from Earth.”

“Oh, good guess, but no. Your boytoy from the other night just pulled up.”

Louis’ heart skips two beats, but his face remains an impassive mask. “Okay.”

“Okay? I speed skated in a skirt over here to tell you before Jesy takes him, now go!”

“Is he in my section?”

“Yes.”

“So, why would Jesy—”

“GO.”

Louis sighs, but quickly tacks up his orders and skates back out to his section. He can see Harry from the short distance sitting in his car, twiddling his thumbs and coughing into his fist. _Bad habit_. Taking a deep breath, Louis skates to the window of Harry’s Volvo and clears his throat to alert his presence.

“Hello,  stranger.”

Harry’s head snaps up and a wide, blinding grin stretches his face. “Hi, Louis. Dunno if you remember me.”

“Of course I do.”

“Oh.”

“Pretty hard to forget a guy who dumps his entire meal on his waiter.” Harry’s face falls ever so slightly, and, no, Louis does not like that. “Harry, I’m taking the piss.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up and he brightens again. “You remember my name.”

“Like I said you’re pretty unforgettable.”

Harry blushes and looks down at his legs. “Um, should I order?”

“That’s why you came, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Um. I’ll have the same thing as last time? Still want to try it.”

“You can only have it if you promise me something.”

“Anything.”

_Obedient._ Louis smirks. “Just promise to stay in your car when I bring you your food.”

Harry blushes again but smiles. “Deal.”

When Harry’s order is ready, he patiently waits for Louis to set his tray on the edge of his window, making a show of sitting on his hands, which causes Louis to laugh and Harry to sparkle. 

“Okay, here you go. Now, Niall, your cook and my mate, is dying to know how this goes over, since you destroyed it last time. So. Enjoy.”

“I’m so excited.” Harry reaches for his burger and is about to take a bite when he notices that Louis is still stood watching him. He hesitates, and Louis realises he’s being a bit creepy.

“Oh my god, sorry. I’ll let you eat in peace.”

“No, no. It’s not that. I just. Am probably going to make a mess of this. Not very attractive.”

“I don’t think you could do anything unattractive. But, I should get back to work so. I’ll be back to check on you.”

Harry smiles and nods. “See you in a bit, Louis.”

Louis quickly takes the order of another customer and skates back inside Mel’s, feeling winded for reasons that probably have nothing to do with physical exertion.

“You all right, babe?” Leigh-Anne asks Louis, when he grips the counter for stability.

Louis’ eyes flicker up to her face, and he nods briskly. “Yeah. Yeah. Leigh, I’m a catch, right? Would you go out with me if I was into girls and not an idiot?”

Leigh-Anne smiles sweetly. “Well, I mean. I see you like a brother, but you’re totally a catch. You’re clever and hilarious and gorgeous and loyal.”

“Wow, continue.”

She rolls her eyes fondly. “Lou, just ask him out.”

“Isn’t that, like, unethical? Since he’s a customer?”

“I don’t know, we’re uni students. Who’s gonna care?”

“It’s just, like, he’s here alone again and I don’t know if he’s single or interested in dating or even into guys, really, like.”

“You said he flirted with you.”

“Okay, I didn’t say flirt. But. What if he’s just charming and goofy?”

“Louis, fish around if you need to, but you have another car in your section, so go on.”

“Thanks, Leigh.”

Louis takes the order from a ridiculously garish yellow Lamborghini. Why they’re grabbing burgers and chips instead of eating at a £100-per-plate-without-drinks type of restaurant he can’t fathom, but he doesn’t question it. Louis sneaks a glance over to Harry, who’s munching on his chips and looking a little lost.

Louis glides over with his hands behind his back, and Harry immediately smiles wide and almost frog-like, Louis would say. “Hey, Curly. So what do you think?”

“I think it’s a winner. Tell your mate I said so.”

“I don’t want his head to get too big, so I might just tell him you said it was shit.”

Harry belly laughs and claps his hands together and his face looks like it might split from amusement, and, wow, Louis sort of wishes it was his full-time job to evoke that sort of reaction out of Harry.

“No, don’t worry. I’ll let him know. But. Anyway. Uh. Don’t you have a million friends to go see? Or a fit date? Or like a study session with a long-term pal-friend?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend if that’s what you’re fishing for.”

“I. Uh. Me neither. Have a boyfriend. I don’t.”

“I’m glad.”

Louis is sure he’s flushing intensely, and for once, it’s probably noticeable—his persistent summer tan finally faded under the ever-present gray Manchester clouds. 

“I just. Well, you came back, and I didn’t know if you just really have a thing for hamburgers.”

“Not really. I was just curious and bored the first time.”

“Oh.”

Harry doesn’t answer for a moment. “I feel like I’m always keeping you from work.”

“It’s slow for a Saturday. I should get back though. But, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to maybe come back the next time I work. Not tomorrow cause we’re closed. But, Monday? Towards closing? We could hang out a bit while I’m not on the clock and I’ll—”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll see you Monday night, Louis.”

“Brilliant. Let me just take your tray and let you on your way.”

“Night, Lou.”

“Night, Harold.”

They both wave goodbye and Louis is on a cloud and he feels lighter than a feather, all academic worries fallen aside, and he falls asleep that night with a grin that stretches his face and crinkles his eyes.

~

Sunday passes slowly, but Louis gets his paper done with a heavy hit of bullshitting, or as his secondary school English instructor termed it, creative embellishment. He and Zayn order a curry takeaway for tea, and Louis Skypes with his mum for half an hour before he gives into his need for sleep. 

When he wakes the next day, he picks out his outfit in anticipation of his sort-of date, going with his very tightest black skinnies, a cosy greige-y cable knit jumper, and Vans. The Vans might be a poor choice, given that the snow that fell the day before has turned into a gray, icy slush, but Louis prefers them to anything else. 

He’s remarkably unfocused in both his lectures and his seminar, even tea doing nothing to centre his energy on the words his professors and classmates are saying. Nonetheless, he gets through every class with only one reprimand and trudges over to Mel’s at 5 o’clock.

Four minutes into his shift, Louis realises he has yet to ask Caroline for permission to hang around after closing.

“Caroline, Miss Watson, my dearest, my darling.”

“What do you want, Louis?”

Louis huffs, “Why do you assume I want something? I’m wounded, Caroline.”

Caroline looks up from the pantry of which she’s taking stock and gives Louis a very pointed look.

“Okay, well. I don’t know if the girls or Niall mentioned anything but. There’s a boy, and I—”

“Is this about your date? Niall said.”

“Yeah…so, is it all right? If we stay around after closing? I sort of have this little thing planned and this is the best place for it, so…”

“Of course, love. Just lock up and don’t make a mess unless you want to clean it up.”

“Oh. Oh my god. Thank you. You’re an angel.” Louis ducks to give her a swift kiss on the cheek.

“Go on, you cheeky sop.”

As half past nine approaches, Louis becomes more antsy by the minute, not at all the picture of cool composure he might have hoped to appear. He starts to panic that Harry will stand him up or that if he doesn’t that he’ll smell like fry oil and ketchup, but Jade assures him that he smells like rain and vanilla. 

“Should I have shaved?”

“Lou, he’s already seen you all stubbly. I’m sure he likes it. You look handsome. Love your jumper by the way.”

“Thanks. Okay like. Everything’s semi-ready. I wonder when he’s actually coming. We should have exchanged numbers, what the fuck.”

Niall walks up to Louis and firmly grips his shoulders, demanding eye contact. “Comme des fuckdown. We have to go and I don’t want you to bite down your nails any further or they’ll bleed.”

Louis yanks his thumb away from his mouth and shoves his hands in his pockets, which is an immense feat considering. “Okay. I’m chilled.”

Niall smiles and both he and Jade give him warm hugs before making their exit.

“Good luck, Lou! You won’t need it though.”

Ten minutes to ten o’clock, Louis is sat at a table inside overlooking the carpark, still absentmindedly fidgeting with his hair and jumper, when a silver Volvo pulls into a space. Louis stands up hastily and makes for the door to greet his maybe-date. Harry crawls out of his car and Louis’ breath is taken away. Even just after two days, Louis’ mental image of Harry is nothing to the real thing. His legs are 5 miles long in jeans as tight as Louis’ and his flannel shirt is a lovely purple tartan and he’s covered in a simple, unbuttoned black peat coat that just barely reaches his hips. But his face. His complexion is milk and honey and strawberries and his curls are chocolately and long and his eyes the most vibrant emerald he’s ever seen. Louis takes all of this in in the span of five seconds before Harry approaches him with a soft smile and a low, “Hi.”

“Hi. You look well nice.”

“You look amazing. I wasn’t sure if you would forget, since we never actually exchanged numbers, but.”

“I’ve already told you, Harry. You’re unforgettable.” Harry dimples and shakes his head, and Louis grasps his hand, which is large and so warm, and pulls him inside. “C’mon. We’ve got hanging out to do.”

Louis is bubbling with nerves but also a pleasant wash of contentedness. It might have something to do with the comforting feeling of Harry’s fingers laced with his.

“I have butterflies.”

Louis laughs softly. “Me too. That’s good, right?”

“I can’t see how it wouldn’t be.”

“Well, I, uh. I didn’t know if you would have already eaten, but if you’re hungry I can make us something. But I’ll be honest, I’ve never cooked for anyone before and I’m probably shit.”

“I’m not really hungry, but what else can we do here? I mean, I don’t really care. I just want to spend time with you.”

“Ah. I actually had an idea. Do you know how to roller skate, Harry?”

“I’ve never tried.”

“In other words, no. Would you like me to teach you?”

“Only if you promise not to laugh when I’m terrible. You're so good at it.”

“I can make no such promises, but I can swear I’ll make you feel like I’m laughing with you instead of at you. What do you say?”

Harry smiles for the millionth time, and it’s quickly become Louis’ favourite thing in the world. “Absolutely. I don’t have skates though.”

“Oh, don’t worry. We have a dozen pairs back here. C’mon.” Louis pulls him by the hand again, and they spend five minutes searching through Mel’s skate stock until they find a pair to fit Harry. Louis only makes one joke about big feet, and once he’s laced up, he helps Harry to gingerly stand, each gripping each other’s forearms for stability.

“Oh my god. I’m gonna fall on my face.”

“No, no. I won’t let you. C’mon, I’ll just pull you out to the front and you can sit again for a minute while I play something from the jukebox.”

“Okay.”

“Kay, just don’t move your legs. I’m going to pull you along.” Louis lets go of one of Harry’s arms and turns away so he can skate forward, towing Harry along slowly.

“Fuck, fuck. This feels weird, uhhh.”

“Haz, it’s fine. Just don’t move. I’m not going to let you fall or hurt yourself. Do you trust me?”

“100%.”

Louis smiles and continues to carefully drag Harry to the dining room. 

“Okay. You can relax for a minute.” Louis laughs as he sits Harry down at a table while he flits over to the jukebox. “What would you like to hear, Harold?”

“Surprise me.”

Louis scans the selection. He’s torn between oldies and the modern additions they’ve added over the last year. He grins when he sees the perfect song. As the opening notes of “Jailhouse Rock” radiate through the restaurant, Louis returns to Harry, who is smiling so happily that Louis’ chest constricts. 

“Elvis is one of my favourites.”

“I figured he might be. King of Rock ’N’ Roll and all. C’mon, let’s skate.”

Louis does his best to teach Harry the basic technique, but the boy is hopeless and clumsy as a baby deer. Louis is smitten. They get through some of Elvis’ greatest hits before switching to a general mix of oldies. As The Ronettes’ “Be My Baby” starts to play from the jukebox, Louis moves his hands to Harry’s hips and asks, “What’s your favourite Elvis song?”

“Hmmm ‘Suspicious Minds,’ I think. I like that it’s saying how important trust is. Like even with so much love. You need that trust and commitment or it won’t work.”

“Do you believe in love at first sight?”

“20 Questions, aren’t we?”

“That’s what a date is, right?”

Harry smiles. “Um, I don’t know if I believe in _love_ at first sight. But, I think you can see someone and be drawn to them and know immediately that they’re going to be important in your life. And then, the love comes after.”

“How are you so profound? You’re not doing an English degree.”

“Well, philosophy, remember?”

“Oh yeah, how could I let that slip my mind?”

Harry chuckles and Louis could absolutely get used to someone laughing at everything he says even when it’s not funny. They skate, or Harry _tries_ to skate and manages to only fall three times, for what seems simultaneously like hours and no time at all. Louis wonders if maybe it’s suspension of time and what that would mean, exactly. 

At some point, the songs coming from the jukebox have become decidedly of the romantic ballad persuasion. They’re essentially slow-dancing, even if it amounts more to a slight shuffle with Harry’s hands around Louis’ waist and Louis’ arms wrapped around Harry’s neck. 

Louis would worry if maybe they’re a bit too close for the short time they’ve known each other, but Harry doesn’t seem interested in moving and it feels right. They continue dance in silence even when they run out of nickels to use the jukebox. They had talked and laughed for a while, but now they’re both completely quiet. Louis can’t look away from Harry’s eyes.

A memory dawns upon him and he laughs sudden and almost startlingly. 

“What is it?” Harry’s eyes are bright and curious.

“I just remembered the other night. Not when we met, but Friday. It’s embarrassing, though.”

“No, tell me.”

“Okay, I mean. I guess you’ve just sort of been on my mind like constantly. And, all my friends know it, so. But my best friend and flatmate is actually a mate of yours. So, like, I already know your surname.”

“Zayn.”

“Yeah, how’d you guess?”

“Well, he always talks about a Louis and how many Louis’s are there really? So, I put two and two together. And, yeah. He texted about you on Saturday and—”

“What? That bastard. He wasn’t supposed to mention me—”

“Shush. As I was saying, he texted me and I realised I must not have made a total tit of myself on Thursday, so I. Came back. Couldn’t wait really.” Harry looks perfectly serene like he isn’t just claiming to be stuck on someone he spoke to for five minutes and Louis is a bit out of his element. Flirtation is normal. He’s used to that. This feels so different. They’re both unmistakably attracted to each other. But this is. Like. Like Harry’s giving him a piece of himself instead of holding back coyly to seem aloof. Louis wants to return the favour.

“I know it’s so early, but can I—”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to—”

“Kiss me, you fool.”

Louis has never wanted to kiss someone more in his life. In an instant he reaches up and closes the distance between them and their lips are sliding together and Harry’s are impossibly soft and full, and is there anything better than the way Harry pulls Louis up and tightens his arms around his waist and leans into him, deepening the kiss? Like this has to be the pinnacle of human existence, surely, because there are fireworks in Louis’ chest and that’s not as terrifying as it sounds. Louis’ Harry brain is probably hyperbolic and certainly cheesy as fuck, but there are times to ponder that and now is not one of them.

Louis pulls away to breathe a moment, and Harry just noses against Louis’ cheek and presses soft, short kisses on and around his lips. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Louis nuzzles against Harry’s neck and breathes him in a bit. He smells clean and sweet like apples but also spicy like cinnamon.

“You smell like apple pie, did you know? Good enough to eat.”

“Oh, really?” Louis looks up and Harry waggles his eyebrows.

“You arse. Ruining a cute moment with your filthy mind. Shame.”

Harry laughs. “I didn’t really ruin it, did I?”

“Nah.” Louis pulls Harry down by his neck to kiss him again, and it’s slow and tender like they’re getting to know each other by touch and taste alone. 

Harry pulls back this time. “I—”

“It’s late, I know.”

“I wish it was, like, summer and I didn't have class tomorrow and it wasn’t freezing outside and I didn’t have to go home right now.”

“December’s so great, though. Christmas and my birthday are in December.”

“When is your birthday?”

“Christmas Eve.”

Harry frowns. “So, I won’t be able to spend it with you.”

Louis hums, “I don’t know about that. I might miss you. Is that weird to say? Sorry, ignore me.”

“It’s not weird at all. It’s mutual.”

They both smile and Louis rubs Harry’s back lightly. “So.”

“Do you want a ride?”

“Don’t you live in the dorms? You don’t walk?”

“No, I do. Both things. But I work at a law firm and it’s a bit far from campus, so that’s why I drive sometimes. Not the greenest but.”

“You’re not studying law, though.”

“No, but the firm is focused on dispute resolution, which is something I’m interested in. But. A ride? Yes?”

“For sure, thank you. Let’s get these skates off before you break your wrists.” They reluctantly separate, but Louis holds onto Harry’s hand as he manoeuvres them to the back room. 

They eventually climb into Harry’s Volvo after Louis nearly eats the pavement when he slips on the ice. Harry laughs as he helps him up. “It’s those shoes. No traction.”

“Thank you, Harold. I’m aware.”

When the engine roars to life, music starts to play from Harry’s stereo, which is hooked up to his iPod. He turns the down volume slightly, but it’s still enough to fill the car.

“I really don’t live far. I walk usually. The heater will barely kick in and we’ll be there, seriously.”

Harry reaches over to grab Louis’ right hand, and Harry’s hands are still so magically warm that Louis is sighing in relief. “It’s okay. Just tell me where to go.” 

Louis gives Harry directions but otherwise lets him drive in peace. He’s surprised by how comfortable the silence is apart from the music. Nonetheless, “I really like this song. What’s it called?”

“‘Bloom’ by The Paper Kites.”

“It’s nice.”

Harry squeezes Louis’ hand and smiles but doesn’t take his eyes off the road. 

When they pull up to Louis’ block of flats, Harry shuts off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt. “Can we exchange numbers this time?”

Louis laughs and grabs Harry’s phone and inputs his number. “There. Text me.”

Harry walks Louis to his door and lets him know he can’t hang out for a few days, since he has so much revising to do. Louis really should as well, but he always says he’ll study when they hand out the exams.

Louis tries to press a quick kiss to Harry’s lips, but the taller gentleman does his best to turn it into a snog. They’re laughing and out of breath, but Louis forces himself to pull away so he can get in his flat before he freezes to death. Louis watches from his doorstep as Harry walks backwards. Louis calls out, “You’re gonna fall and get hurt and I’m gonna have to nurse you to health again.”

“A risk I’ll have to take, don’t you think?”

Louis groans fondly. “Don’t forget to text.”

Harry smiles, blows a kiss, and turns around to walk the rest of the way in a safe and rational manner.

Louis has barely locked the door to his and Zayn’s flat when his phone vibrates with a text from an unfamiliar number.

**_I have a really good idea for our next date._ **

**_Louis: Who said I wanted to go on another date with you ?_ **

**_Harry: Hey._ **

**_Louis: Spill it Haz_ **

**_Harry: The diner again, but I cook for you and we dance on our feet instead of skates and no one gets hurt_ **

**_Louis: You didn’t get hurt please_ **

**_Harry: My ego, Louis_ **

**_Louis: You’re much more of a baby than I thought_ **

**_Harry: Well, maybe I can be your baby then_ **

**_Louis: ….._ **

**_Harry: That looks pretty affirmative to me. When is our date?_ **

**_Louis: I don’t work again until Friday can we hold out until then ?_ **

**_Harry: Won’t be easy, but yes._ **

**_Louis: You drink tea right_ **

  ** _Harry: I’ve been known to_**

  ** _Louis: Well I can’t get by without it, so we can have tea sometime this week_**

  ** _Harry: Oh my favourite cafe is on campus, that would be perfect_**

  ** _Louis: Excuse me . Why are you making all the important decisions here ?_**

Harry doesn’t respond immediately, so Louis walks through the flat, which is dark except for light peeking out underneath Zayn’s bedroom door. He makes a pitstop in the kitchen to put the kettle on. He doesn’t have class until noon the next day, and he couldn't sleep if he tried.

A minute after he sent his last text, a reply from Harry causes his phone to buzz. He opens the message, which is apparently a picture. For a moment he just looks at it, not getting the significance, but then he notices that the dog in the picture is standing on his hind legs and his teeth are bared in an eerie smile and his front legs are like human arms and his—

**_Louis: Harry what the fuck is wrong with that dog’s penis_ **

**_Harry: What do you mean?_ **

**_Louis: You’re laughing uncontrollably right now aren’t you_ **

**_Harry: Yes._ **

**_Louis: This is so disturbing_ **

Louis genuinely finds the dog disconcerting, but he’s laughing in spite of himself and in imagining Harry rocking back and forth, shaking with mirth. 

**_Harry: It’s funny though, isn’t it?_ **

**_Louis: I can’t believe_ **

**_Harry: You’re welcome_ **

**_Louis: Good night Harry_ **

**_Harry: Sweet dreams xx._ **

**** ~

The next couple of days pass in a flurry of near constant texting and _I told you so_ ’s from Zayn.

“Your plan didn’t even happen, Zayn.”

“But, I helped didn’t I?”

Louis smacks a kiss to Zayn’s forehead and he walks out of the flat with his tea, calling out a “See you tonight, mate! Perrie’s cooking, yeah?”

“Yeah! Bye, bebz!”

It’s Thursday morning, and he and Harry genuinely cannot wait any longer, so they’ve planned to meet at lunchtime at Harry’s favourite cafe on the north side of campus. 

Louis is buzzing through his classes and when he sees Harry waiting at a table inside the cafe and when he arrives at him and they embrace and share a brief kiss and he tells Harry as much.

Harry laughs. “Me too. You’re a surreal kind of beautiful in daylight.”

Louis blushes. “You’re just going there, aren’t you?”

“I’ll tell you every hour on the hour. I ordered us cream teas. I think they only have strawberry and apricot jam, so I got both. You take your tea just with milk, right?”

“I’m glad you’re observant, Styles.”

“Well, that or you told me yesterday in our hour-long and somewhat one-sided discussion about the merits of Yorkshire tea and I don’t delete your texts.”

“Cheeky, Harold.”

They pass the time in happy conversation and only exhibit mild PDA. “I can’t believe we’re just having tea right now.”

“Why’s that hard to believe?”

“Because everything about you is larger than life to me, and this seems so mundane.”

“I could say the exact same about you. But, I like mundane and simple in my life. I can’t wait to be married and domestic and like cooking and cleaning and stuff.”

“Even as young as you are?”

“Yeah. Don’t you want those things, too?”

“100%.”

Each smiles and Harry reaches across the table to hold Louis’ hand for the rest of their lunch until they both have lectures to attend. 

**_Louis: Hey I know you have revising and we still have our date tomorrow , but do you want to come over to my flat for dinner tonight ?_ **

**_Louis: Zayn’s gf Perrie is cooking_ **

**_Harry: I would love to. Should I bring anything?_ **

**_Louis: Just yourself. And your books , I guess . 7:30 ?_ **

**_Harry: Count me in. Though I don’t know how much studying I’ll get in with you around_ **

**_Louis: Stop texting me you miscreant god what a loafer_ **

**_Harry: :P_ **

**_Harry: xx._**

When Harry knocks on Louis’ door that evening, instead of inviting him in, Louis steps outside, pulls the door shut, and pushes Harry against it. He launches himself at Harry’s mouth, whose initial shock gives way to earnest desire as he wraps himself around Louis, sliding his hands beneath Louis’ jumper to squeeze at the warm, smooth skin of his back. Louis’ hands dart to Harry’s hair, and he alternates between kneading at his scalp and pulling lightly on his curls. Harry slides a leg in between Louis’ , and the sudden friction makes both of them to hitch their breath. They continue to kiss each other senseless, grinding, and Louis pulls away, “Sorry.” Harry’s lips are swollen and somehow an even deeper berry shade than before.

“Why would you apologize for that?”

“No, I meant. For doing it outside. Zayn and Perrie are in there, and, I mean, they can get bad sometimes, but Zayn still thinks this is all his doing. So, I’m not trying to add to his self-satisfaction.”

Harry laughs unabashedly and brushes Louis’ fringe to the side. “Well, we had better get inside before they suspect any funny business.”

“It’s a lost cause, probably. Look at yourself.”

Harry glances down at his lower half. “Fuck.”

“I meant your flushed cheeks and mussed hair, but yeah. That too.”

“Twat.”

“Not for me, thanks.”

“Oh my god, literally, let’s go inside. It’s like four degrees.”

“Should take care of your problem right?”

“I’m never kissing you again.”

Louis laughs but pulls Harry inside. “Zayn! Perrie! Our guest!”

“Louis, Jesus.”

“What? Zayn’s painting and Perrie’s in the kitchen. She hasn’t let me in all night, s’probably a tip by now.”

“You should be used to that, then. Zayn said you have no sense of organisation.”

“Zayn should just shut his gob if he knows what’s good for him.”

“I don’t care if you’re messy. I like picking up after people.”

Louis is awestruck, “What planet are you from?”

Harry grins, and Perrie and Zayn finally emerge from their respective hovels.

“Hey, bro!”

“Hey, Zayn. You all right?” They hug briefly and warmly, clearly comfortable with each other.

“Yeah, good, mate. This is my girlfriend, Perrie,” he says, gesturing to the petite blonde to his left.

“Pleasure to meet you. Love your nose ring.” Louis looks on, impossibly fond.

“Aw, thank you! Great to meet you, too. You picked a good one, Lou, god. Gorgeous.” Harry flushes an even deeper red, still a bit flustered from their snogging outside. “Look at his curls, wow.” She reaches up to tug a strand without his permission, but Harry could not care less. Louis’ observed that he’s a bit like a kitten when it comes to physical contact. 

“Get in the springy bits behind his ears, Pez.”

“Oh my god, it’s heaven.”

“Right.”

“Okay, okay. Hey, do I smell dinner?” Harry deflects, finally going a bit shy under all the attention.

“Uhm. About that. I had a bit of a…blunder. I ordered Mexican, though. Should be here soon.”

“Is that why I’ve been banned from my own kitchen from the last two hours?”

“I just didn't want you to get into a flap since Harry was coming over. You like Mexican, right, Harry?”

“Love Mexican. I do a great plate of fajitas. I’ll have to make them for you all soon.”

“That’s so sweet, Harry. He’s sweet, Louis.”

“They’re in the same room, babe,” Zayn says, squeezing Perrie’s waist lightly.

“I was just saying.”

“I know, Perrie. He is sweet. Anyways, we should probably crack on revising before the food gets here, yeah?”

“Yeah, probably.”

Louis pulls Harry from the foyer over to their huge sectional sofa to sit at the coffee table. 

“I like your flat,” Harry says lowly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s open and warm.” He looks around, glancing at the art on the walls—Zayn’s doing—and the massive television—Louis’. “Great television, as well,” he adds with a laugh.

“S’pretty key for our FIFA tournaments. I know you said you’re shit at real football, though I thoroughly intend on changing that, but you also said you’re good with your hands. So, we’d probably do all right.”

“We’d be the dream team, I reckon.”

“Guaranteed. Niall’s roommate, Liam, is decent and he comes over sometimes. He and Zayn make a good pair, but yeah. Nothing on us, I’m sure.”

Harry’s gaze is intense and a little disarming as it flickers from Louis’ eyes to his lips and up again, smile never leaving his face. As much as he’d like to continue with Harry’s likely train of thought, Louis’ better judgment gets ahold of him and he clears his throat gently.

“So. Books. Academia.”

“Right, right. Introduction to Research Methodology. On it.”

Both boys struggle to get past even a page of their textbooks whilst sitting on opposite ends of the sofa with their legs intertwined. Their lack of focus matters little when the bell rings, and Perrie and Zayn shuffle out of his room to collect their takeaways.

Harry and Louis pad over to the dining table, where Perrie is setting out an array of dishes. 

“I didn’t know what you might want, so I got, like, bog standard nachos and tacos and guacamole.”

“It’s great, Perrie, ta. What do you want, babe?”

Harry scans the offerings. “Yeah, I’ll go with tacos, I think.”

They all start to tuck in and the conversation flows naturally from school-related subjects to music and football and television. Perrie is immediately taken with Harry, which is no surprise to Louis—anyone would have to be bonkers not to adore him. Louis loves everything about Harry, but he’s especially endeared by the way his tongue darts out of his mouth before he takes a bite of something.

“Bro, can I have a nacho?” Zayn asks Louis, halfway through dinner.

“Not a chance.”

Harry nudges Louis discreetly with his foot, his expression soft and causing him to appear very much like an alien-Bambi hybrid.

Louis might be mesmerized, but he breaks the moment of silence. “Here cutie, have a nacho.”

Harry smiles and Zayn is indignant. “What the fuck? Wanker.”

“Language, Zayn,” Perrie scolds.

“Yeah, Zayn, we’re at the table. Mind your manners.”

Zayn huffs for a second before they all laugh and pass the rest of the meal in peace—Louis even conceding some of his nachos to Zayn.

Perrie starts to clean up afterward, and Harry doesn’t waste a minute to offer his services. “Let me help you, Perrie.”

“Oh. It’s all right, love. I did all the washing up from my failed dish, so it’s just our plates and things.”

“It’ll move faster if I help. Plus I enjoy it.”

“Well, how can I turn that down? Thank you.”

When Harry rejoins him on the sofa, Louis has managed to get through an entire act of _King Lear_ , a feat he never expected to achieve with Harry in his general vicinity. 

“Hi.” Harry slides himself into Louis’ lap, making himself small. “Hey, hey, hey. Reading here.”

“Shush. I’m listening to your heartbeat.”

Louis gives in easily and tosses his book aside to switch to carding slowly through Harry’s curls. “What does it sound like?”

“Strong. A little quick though. And a bit skippy.”

“That’s your fault, I reckon.”

“Hmm maybe.”

“It is.”

They sit quietly for a few minutes, until Louis’ curiosity overwhelms him. Another Harry effect, probably. “What are you thinking about?”

Low, “About all the things I’d like to do and see with you and the places I’d like to go.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm. I feel like you’d make everything fun. Or worth remembering.”

“I want to get drunk on the beach with you even though literally I hate seagulls. Things like that?”

“Yep. And picking strawberries and Paris and California and the cinema and doing nothing at all. Just like we are now.”

They sit a few more minutes just soaking in the moment. “I hate to drag down the mood, but uhh, revising.”

“Look at this suddenly studious Lou. I’m so impressed. You’re right, though.”

They study for a few hours, taking breaks to snog lazily, before neither of them can barely keep their eyes open anymore.

“Harry. Haz. Hazza.” Louis fails to stir Harry, so he prods him gently where one of his dimples usually hides. 

Harry blearily opens his eyes. “Oh. Did I doze off again?”

Louis chuckles. “Yeah, you can’t really go home like this. Stay the night? I have extra toothbrushes.”

Harry smiles and they pad off to Louis’ room to get ready for bed. “It’s not messy.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know if we would study in here, so. I made a bit of an effort. Don’t open the wardrobe, though.”

When both have cleaned their teeth and changed into pairs of Louis’ joggers—it’s winter, after all—they fall into bed. Harry immediately curls into Louis’ chest and Louis wraps himself around the younger boy, dropping a kiss to his hair.

“Night, Lou.”

“Night, darling.”

~

Louis awakens to his alarm at half-seven—disgusting, really—and to a mouth full of curls. Harry is latched onto Louis like a koala, so even though he needs to be out the door in forty-five minutes, he lets the boy sleep a bit more. He’s also hard, but he knows they wouldn’t have time to take care of that even if Harry wanted to.

Five or so minutes later, Harry rouses and grumbles incoherently, squeezing his eyes firmly shut. “What’s that, Harold?”

“I wish we didn’t have class.”

“Look at the bright side, today’s the last day. We have a date tonight. Then, it’s Christmas hols after the weekend.”

Harry huffs but opens his eyes, bringing them to Louis’ face. “You look like an angel in the morning.”

Dim, gray morning light filters in through Louis’ curtains, but it illuminates them both.

“You’re one to talk. Your curls are like a halo.”

“You’re obsessed with my curls.”

“Well, they’re my favourite thing about you. That or your smell.”

Harry grins wide like the Cheshire Cat, and it would be frightening if Harry weren’t so cute.

“I like sleeping in your bed.”

“I like you.”

“Do you have to spend your whole holiday in Doncaster? I know your family misses you but.”

“Would you like to meet them? They’d be enamoured with you.”

“I would love that, actually.”

“Even though we’ve known each other only a week?”

“It doesn’t feel like a week. I feel like I’ve known you so much longer than I have.”

“It’s weird, innit. I mean the best kind of weird.”

“It feels inevitable. For once, I don’t mind that.”

They fall back into quiet before they Louis forces Harry to get up so they’re not late. Harry showers quickly whilst Louis puts on the kettle for their cuppas and tries to find something of his to fit Harry. He settles on an oversized speckled jumper, resigning himself to the fact that no trousers of his would ever be long enough for Harry.

When they leave the flat, they’re astonishingly still on time, and they walk hand in hand to campus. Harry drops Louis off outside the drama building, and they kiss lightly before parting ways until their date that night.

~

They breeze through their classes, texting on and off. At half-two Louis opens a snapchat of a seemingly ripped jean leg revealing a particularly unsightly scrape on Harry’s knee, accompanied with a large thumbs down emoji.

**_Louis: What did you do ??_ **

**_Harry: Remember how I teased you for your grip less shoes? My boots are just as bad_ **

Louis is torn between laughing at Harry’s misfortune and rushing to his aid wherever he is to nurse him. He settles for another alternative.

**_Louis: Poor baby :( think you can hold out until tonight for me to kiss it better ?_ **

**_Harry: Just kissing?_ **

**_Louis: Are my kisses not good enough for you ?_ **

**_Harry: Hey no I didn’t_ **

**_Harry: Hey_ **

**_Louis: Kidding … if you’re good and pay attention in class I might have something else for you after dinner_ **

**_Harry: :D :D :D_ **

**_Louis: Bye_ **

Louis trudges through work in a daze, which is why he’s told off multiple times by everyone from Caroline to Niall. They can all see how happy he is, however, so they’re mostly forgiving. Caroline even gives Louis permission to use the frosty maker if he so desires. 

Harry pulls up to the car park at a quarter to ten, and Louis still can’t believe his luck. He’s still wearing his torn jeans and Louis’ jumper, making Louis’ heart expand twenty times over with affection.

“Do you ever, like, take an off day?” Louis calls.

“From what?”

Harry arrives at his feet at that second, allowing Louis to lower his voice. “From looking so bloody gorgeous.”

Harry slides his hands around Louis’ waist. “Yeah, okay, Mr. Marc Jacobs model.”

“I’m way too short to be a model. Meanwhile, I think you just walked off a Burberry runway.”

“In my ripped jeans, yeah. I think you just like me in your clothes.”

Louis burrows into Harry’s neck. “Mmm, no, both.”

Harry pulls Louis’ face up to his and pecks him on the lips. “C’mon, let’s go inside. I’m starved.”

“What are we having?”

“Well, I was originally going to do my fajitas, but then we just had Mexican. So, I thought we’d use this American diner to cook up something thoroughly English? Chip butties sound all right?”

“My mouth is watering. Please. We can also use the frosty maker, my boss said.”

Harry punches the air with his fist. “Hell yeah.”

He pulls the chip butties together fairly quickly, only needing a little coaching from Louis on the fryer. They eat in almost total silence, except for low music coming from the jukebox—evidence of how hungry they each are.

“That was honestly incredible. You could open a chip shop if you’re as good with fish as you are with chips.”

“Ah, maybe. I’m a better baker though. Worked at a bakery back in Holmes Chapel. The best part was if you dropped something and it, like, crumbled, you couldn’t sell it. So you’re, like, ‘Oh no, it broke…Get in.’”

Louis laughs loudly. “I would do the same when I worked at Keepmoat. If you dropped the burgers, you got a free one. Happy days.”

Harry laughing, “Wait, pastries are way better than stadium burgers.”

“Excuse me. Are not. Have you been to Keepmoat? How would you know?”

“All stadium burgers are the same.”

“I’m not entertaining this conversation any longer. Anyways, I’m an expert frosty maker, did you know?”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not. But we’re going to try. Get your cute little bum out of that seat, Styles.”

“Leave my bum out of it will you.”

“That goes against everything I believe in, I’m sorry. Now c’mon!”

“God, you’re bossy.”

“You love it.”

Louis walks away from Harry, who tilts his head to the side, makes a face, and mumbles, “True.”

Three attempts and fifteen minutes later, Louis has to admit that this idea is not going well. The machine has exploded frosty mix onto them repeatedly, and they’re both shivering as a result.

“This is not going well.”

“I’m gonna be honest—I’m freezing. But, you look really cute covered in ice cream.”

“Am I just particularly appealing covered in food or?

“I can’t help it if my mind goes to places involving tongues and white things.”

“You’re the worst.”

“False.” Harry pushes Louis up against the counter and in one fluid motion drops to his knees, nuzzling his face against Louis’ groin. A combination of Harry’s hot mouth and pent up sexual frustration has Louis embarrassingly hard, embarrassingly fast. 

When Harry goes to unzip his jeans, Louis moans but pushes his shoulders away slightly. “Harry. Harry. Stop.”

“You want me to stop?”

“I mean, no. But not in here, we can’t in here. Hygiene.”

Harry groans but stands up and drags Louis by the hand to the backroom, pushing him on to the bench to grip his thighs and pick up where he left off.

“Didn’t I promise this to you first?”

“We have plenty of time. Right now I need _this_.”

When Harry wraps a hand around Louis’ dick, Louis’ mind returns to his and Harry’s kiss when he thought that he had reached the pinnacle of the human experience. He doesn’t know if this surpasses that, but it’s near the top. Then, his cock is enveloped in the tight warmth of Harry’s mouth, and he can’t think anymore. 

Harry is enthusiastic and a bit sloppy, and he makes the neediest sounds as if he’s the one getting sucked off. He’s relentless—the furthest thing from a tease as he bobs up and down, dragging his tongue flat against the vein on the underside of Louis’ cock on every upstroke, swirling his tongue and lips around the head before slipping down again. Louis tries to watch at first, enthralled with the rosiness of Harry’s cheeks and the way that his curls are sticking to the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. That becomes a bit much, however, so he closes his eyes and threads his fingers in Harry’s hair, just resting them there. He tries his best to last as long as he can, but before long he’s tugging on Harry’s curls to pull up. Harry just sinks deeper as Louis cries and comes down his throat. They sit there for a few moments, spent. Harry rests his head on Louis’ thighs, which have stopped shaking finally. 

Louis hauls Harry up into a kiss, tasting both himself and a residual sweetness from the frosty disaster. “I can’t believe you’re real,” he says in between kisses. “I. Can we clean up? So we can go home? I need to take care of you.”

Harry’s soft expression gives way to a smirk. “Beat you to the kitchen.”

~

When Harry and Louis stumble through the entrance of Louis’ flat, they’re laughing and kissing when they knock over his and Zayn’s umbrella holder.

“Shhhhh,” Harry says. “Zaynie is sleeping.”

Louis giggles. “Zaynie? If I hadn’t been with you, I’d swear you’re drunk.”

“I am.”

“Don’t you dare say it.”

“I’m dick-drunk.”

Louis groans in jest. “Ughhh, get away, you animal. Get the shower going, we’re filthy.”

Harry skips off to Louis’ bedroom, and Louis realises with painful intensity how gone he is for the boy. Already.

When Louis enters the steamy bathroom, Harry’s clothes are neatly folded and laid on one of the linen shelves. Louis shakes his head at the domestic sweetness of it and hops in behind Harry, wrapping himself around his broad back and perching his chin on top of his shoulder.

“Hi.”

“I love your shower head. Great water pressure.”

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now.”

“Duh.”

“You’re a liar.”

“Such weak trust. I guess someone doesn’t want to wash my hair, then.”

“Hand me the shampoo, Harold.”

They take turns washing the other and scrubbing every bit of ice cream out of their hair. They’re in the middle of a soap beard contest when Louis surges forward and takes Harry’s mouth into his, who now tastes like soap and toothpaste. Running his hands down his sides and squeezing at the soft flesh of Harry’s sides, he drops one down to palm at Harry’s cock, which has been half hard for the last two hours.

After leaving Harry a panting, squirming mess, they fall out of the shower and into bed completely starkers. They tangle together and both pass out within a matter of minutes.

~

Louis wakens the next morning to Harry whimpering and rutting against his thigh. 

“Harry. Wake up. Baby.”

Harry’s eyes snap open and they’re stormy with desire, a paler green than usual. A whine escapes his throat, and Louis soothes him with one hand brushing through his hair and the other caressing the side of his cheek. “What is it, baby? What do you want?”

“I. Need. Can you. Fuck me, please. Please.”

Louis’ eyes widen and he gulps a bit, nodding his head hurriedly. “Let me grab the stuff.”

Louis takes his time opening Harry up, sucking kisses into his pale thighs. When he finally bottoms outside inside him and starts to rock into him, Louis has never felt more in sync with another human being in his life. They both still come embarrassingly fast, but they each know that it’s a sign of how overwhelmingly right it is to be with each other.

After another hasty shower, Harry makes omelets for Louis, Zayn, and himself. The three of them head out into the city centre to tackle a bit of Christmas shopping and take in the scenes before they head home Monday.

Louis invites Harry to come out with him and the boys at the pub later in the evening, so Harry runs back to his dorm to grab a couple changes of clothes. He meets them at their flat before they make the short walk.

Louis sticks to his whiskey sours throughout the night, knowing after years of practice that it’s the best way to pace himself. Much to the chagrin of the bartender, Harry requests some of the fruitiest cocktails imaginable, but the gentleman melts under the power of Harry’s dimpled charm. He, unfortunately, also earns a couple of vulgar and coarse comments from the rude man next to him.

“Hey! Arsehole! Stop with your tings, man, at my boy!”

“What’d you say?”

“I said, fuck off. That kind of language isn’t acceptable, now apologize to Harry and get your arse out of here.”

Louis may be small, but he can also be intimidating and persuasive when he chooses. The guy reluctantly folds under the pressure now of not only Louis but the bartender and Niall, who’s wandered his way over to them. 

Niall and Harry get on like a house on fire, and eventually Liam makes an appearance and takes to chatting with him, introduced by Niall as Louis’ mate. Louis and Zayn are off in another corner of the bar for most of Harry’s and Liam’s discussion, the latter of which decides to ask if Harry has a girlfriend. 

With the world’s greatest timing, Louis sidles up to Harry just as the boy answers, “Boyfriend. Louis’ boyfriend.”

Liam realises his gaffe, “Oh sorry, mate, I didn’t. Niall said. I—”

“Nah, man, it’s okay. Niall didn’t know, since we hadn’t talked about it. But yeah.”

Harry looks at Louis, eyes glittering, having shifted from the a slightly nervous expression, as if he wasn’t sure if he should have said that. “Yeah?”

“Of course, love.”

Harry’s smile is blinding, and he buries his head in Louis’ chest. “I didn't know if you were, like, on the same page.”

“I think we’ve probably been on the same page since we met.”

All of the boys spend the evening alternating between their table and the bar. At some point in the evening, Louis finds himself chatting with a very pretty second-year named Angel about England’s chances in the next World Cup. Harry appears thoroughly bored with the conversation, but he stays close to Louis’ side, half people-watching and half Louis-watching. 

The girl does not seem to get that she’s walking on thin ice, however, because she presses a light pat to Louis’ thigh, as they’re both sat on bar stools. Harry’s eyes track the movement, and he waits barely a moment before he’s replacing her hand with a much longer and more intimate squeeze to Louis’ thigh. 

Angel notices—it’s nigh impossible to ignore the death stare of which she’s become the recipient. Harry decides to throw all subtlety out the window by sliding an arm around Louis’ waist and kissing his cheek. Louis turns into his arms, smiling—apparently oblivious to what’s transpired. 

“Need some attention, babe?”

“It was great talking to you, Louis. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, you too! I’m not sure about your prediction there, but I’d like to be positive.”

The defeated girl smiles good-naturedly and disappears into another area of the pub.

“Hey, boyfriend.”

“Hi.”

“Whatcha up to?”

“Just thinking about you.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Like, so. I heard this song yesterday. And, the lyrics remind me of you.”

“What are they?”

“ _All the stars up in the sky / And the leaves in the trees / All the broken bits that make you jump up / And grassy bits in between / All the matter in the world that’s how much that I like you._ ”

Louis is quiet. Then, “You do talk some shit. But I feel the same.”

 ~

Harry spends the night again, but he has to return to his dorm to pack up for his trip home to Cheshire the next day. He drives Louis to the train station in the morning, and their goodbye would be harder if they weren’t both fully aware that they’re going to crack before long.

Louis spends the next week soaking in his sisters and his mum and getting into the Christmas spirit, something he’s always found difficult to do away at school. He and Harry still text nearly nonstop and Skype whenever they’re both alone, but the ache of missing each other’s presence throbs more and more each day they're apart. 

Louis is vaguely aware that it’s unusual to become so deeply attached to someone so immediately, but he’s happier than ever before. He feels uplifted and encouraged in everything, and his walls fall down faster than a building rocked by an earthquake. He wishes he could spend every free minute with Harry, who makes him laugh and is warm and clever and sexy and more loving than anyone in the known universe. There’s that hyperbolic Harry-brain again.

A week is all they can muster, in the end.

Louis invites Harry to drive out to Doncaster, and he makes the trip the day before Louis’ birthday. Over the next two days, the Tomlinsons fall head over heels for Harry. 

“Um, excuse me. It’s my birthday. Why is Harry getting all the attention?”

Fizzy pipes up, “It’s your fault for inviting him. He’s just cooler than you, Lou.”

Harry laughs, his whole body shaking, earning him an admonishment from Daisy and Phoebe, who are painstakingly plaiting his hair. “Sorry, sorry.”

Louis pretends to pout before standing from the sofa to drop a kiss to Harry’s forehead and shuffling off to the kitchen to grab more mince pies for the room.

Snow had fallen heavily the night before, so Harry, Louis, and his sisters go outdoors to build a snowman in the garden. The attempt is never fulfilled in its entirety, however, when they all descend into a snowball fight that Louis instigates when he throws a huge one directly at Lottie’s head.

They exchange gifts that evening, two for Louis since it’s his birthday, as Harry is leaving first thing in the morning to be home for Christmas luncheon with his family. 

Initially, they had both promised Jay that Harry would sleep on the air mattress on the floor, but that proves impossible to maintain. They curl around each other both nights with not an inch of space between them, and since they keep the funny business down to a birthday blow jobs in the shower, Jay is none the wiser.

Louis wakes before Harry in the morning again, a pattern he doesn’t mind forming. He loves to watch the sunlight stream in and highlight every beautiful plane of Harry’s face and _oh my god how did I get this soft?_

Harry stirs at half-eight. “Merry Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, love.”

“Where did that dimple come from?”

“Huh?”

“You have a dimple all of a sudden.”

“I’d say that’s impossible, but ya know. You’re you and I’m me.”

“Can’t you just come with me?”

“I want to, but I haven't seen my granny in months.”

“Ah, well. I’d never keep you from your gran.”

“How about I take the train out on Boxing Day?”

“Yes! And I can take you to the bakery and you’ll understand why burgers do not hold a candle to Barbara’s pies.”

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“You’re something else, Harry Styles.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve just. Never been in a relationship where I wasn’t afraid it was going to go pear-shaped at some point. So it means that I’ve never met anyone like you in my life, and I don’t think I ever will. When you said you want to do everything with me, I feel like I really understand that now. Then you were away from me for, like, a week, and even if I could see you through a computer screen, your smile became almost like a memory, but then you were back and I was fine. I just really love your mind and I like knowing what’s going on inside it. So basically, it means that I really hope we carry on because I’m in love with you. And I'm not afraid to say it because you make me feel strong. And really cheesy, apparently.”

After Louis’ speech, Harry’s eyes are glimmering and he’s clearly torn between smiling and saying something.

“You don’t have to say it back.”

“Remember how I said I don’t believe in love at first sight?” Louis nods but braces himself for the worst. “And, like, how it follows and blablabla but that I think you can know?” Louis nods again. “I never said how long it would take to follow. You take me somewhere I have never been. I love you.”

After that, Louis cannot hold himself back, and he brings their lips together for the the sweetest and most meaningful kiss he’s ever experienced. His heart is champagne bubbles, and he may have ascended onto a cloud for all he knows because nothing matters more in this instant than Harry and HarryandLouis. He has a sneaking suspicion that will never truly change.

 


End file.
